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Just a few more days...

Yep. Monday again. Work again. It's still miserable, grey and dank out there, with more rain on the horizon (particularly tomorrow).

However, the countdown has begun - just five days to go, and we're off to Spain on Saturday! Can't wait...

Meanwhile, on this Tacky Music Monday, here's an old fave - our Patron Saint of Histrionics Señorita Rocío Jurado!

As I said last time I posted it:

With a plethora of safety gays and girls who look like drag queens [I'm sure I spotted a youthful Dame Hilda Bracket in there somewhere], bizarre costume changes, piss-poor miming and a duettist who looks like Ron Burgundy sans moustache - this is just perfect!

It remains so:

Rocio Jurado - medley

Have a good week, dear reader.

Bowie and Burns

Me with the powder-blue suit Bowie wore in the iconic music video for Life On Mars

Back in 2013, the V&A staged one of the most comprehensive and mind-boggling exhibitions dedicated to the life of one person, ever - the wonderful David Bowie Is..., the most visited exhibit in the museum’s history. I went along, and was blown away by it!

Then in 2023, thanks to a donation from the Blavatnik Family Foundation and Warner Music Group, and in collaboration with the great man's estate, the entire archive around which that exhibition was based was acquired by the V&A for the nation - and for a permanent [albeit with items on rotation] display at the new David Bowie Centre in Stratford, which officially opened in September 2025, with tickets strictly limited, and members a priority.

So it was that Madam Arcati and I (V&A members) were able to snaffle tickets - for us and for John-John [Hils, for whom we also booked a ticket, couldn't make it] - for a viewing yesterday!

The V&A takes great pains to emphasise that this is not solely an "exhibition" - and indeed, in comparison to their usual dazzling multi-room, multitudinous-exhibit events (dozens of which we have been to, and thoroughly enjoyed), it is quite tiny; just one room, with ten visual display cases, a big screen and floor-to-ceiling shelves around a table. 

It's the latter part that makes clear the true purpose of the centre - for anyone, by request in advance, can take a closer look at any of the 90,000 items in the collection! If you want to handle Bowie's platform boots, his fedora from The Man Who Fell to Earth, or his personal diaries, you can do so!

Of the items currently on display [as I mentioned above, many of these will periodically be refreshed and changed], I was enthralled by the variety and range, from all eras of his career. Highlights: That suit [pictured at the top of the post] from Life On Mars (and the cream suit from the Serious Moonlight tour I went to see in 1983, and his "Ziggy Stardust" costume), a pair of letters - one a "reference" written by David's dad, the other a very curt rejection letter from Apple Records - his high-drama metal "wings" from the Glass Spider tour in 1987, the handwritten lyrics to Heroes (and the synths played in those "Berlin sessions"), the Stylophone he played on Space Oddity, and, and, and... everything!

It was a brilliant day!

[Click any pic to embiggen]

About the David Bowie Centre

[PS We also took a wander around the V&A East Storehouse itself, which is a stunning (and bewildering) warehouse-scale display of objects of all types and from all eras, that are a mere part of the museum's gargantuan collection, which visitors walk around, under and above - worthy of another visit, and another blog post all of its own - read the review from the ever-wonderful The Londonist instead.]

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Meanwhile...

...happy Burns Night!

Bringing the two things together nicely, here's Scotland's uncrowned Queen, Lulu singing the song Bowie wrote for her (together with the great man on backing vocals):

Lulu - The Man Who Sold The World

We passed upon the stair, we spoke of was and when
Although I wasn't there, he said I was his friend
Which came as some surprise; I spoke into his eyes
I thought you died alone, a long long time ago

Oh no, not me
I never lost control
You're face to face
With The Man Who Sold The World

I laughed and shook his hand, and made my way back home
I searched for form and land, for years and years I roamed
I gazed a gazely stare at all the millions here
We must have died alone, a long long time ago

Who knows? not me
We never lost control
You're face to face
With the Man who Sold the World

I'd like to be a gallery, put you all inside my show

Those rancid little gnomes at Blogger just cannot leave well alone, can they?

This week's little "surprise"? - yesterday, the function for comments-upon-comments in a thread [aka "embedded", as it's described in the settings menu] stopped working, with the "reply" link greyed-out. Whatever this shit is, it's also hit the setting whereby the reader clicks a photo to embiggen and it opens in "LightBox" (a widget that lets you scroll through posted photos) - photos currently open in a new window/tab instead. Other navigation functions have also been affected. Sigh.

I digress...

This afternoon, Madam Arcati, Hils, John-John and I are off to the wilds of Hackney Wick, to visit the new David Bowie Centre at the V&A's "East Storehouse" - and that's a collection I am champing at the bit to see [despite already having already been overawed by the David Bowie Is... exhibition back in 2013] !

Something appropriate for the occasion is in order:

David Bowie - Andy Warhol

Like to take a cement* fix
Be a standing cinema
Dress my friends up just for show
See them as they really are
Put a peephole in my brain
Two New Pence to have a go
I'd like to be a gallery
Put you all inside my show

Andy Warhol looks a scream
Hang him on my wall
Andy Warhol, Silver Screen
Can't tell them apart at all

Andy walking, Andy tired
Andy take a little snooze
Tie him up when he's fast asleep
Send him on a pleasant cruise
When he wakes up on the sea
Be sure to think of me and you
He'll think about paint and he'll think about glue
What a jolly boring thing to do

Andy Warhol looks a scream
Hang him on my wall
Andy Warhol, Silver Screen
Can't tell them apart at all

Andy Warhol looks a scream
Hang him on my wall
Andy Warhol, Silver Screen
Can't tell them apart at all

Apparently Mr Warhol was not best pleased. I'm certain David lost no sleep over it.

[*I'm pretty sure that in his original lyrics, this word was not "cement" at all, but "semen"; sanitised for 1970s audiences, no doubt.]

Get ready (Baby) tonight

The weekend is looming - and it's just seven days tomorrow till we're off to Spain..!

To lead (moon-walk?) us into the party mood, who better than the eternally uplifting Soul Train alumni Shalamar? That'll do nicely.

Thank Disco It's Friday!

Shalamar - A Night to Remember (TOTP 1982)

Have a fab weekend, dear reader, whatever dance you do!

Of George, irrelevant awards, cocks, life-forms, cult TV, a jam-marketeer and a cow

A new production of Sondheim's Sunday In The Park With George, starring Ariana Grande and the very lovely Jonathan Bailey, will open at the Barbican Centre in London in summer 2027. We must get tickets!

It's another snippets post, dear reader:

• Big yawn news: The nominations for this year's Oscars have been announced. Once again, there's nothing in any category that has even tempted me to want to see it, and many films I've never even heard of. I won't be watching.
• Big cocks win medals news: Ski jumping officials have introduced new checks after claims some athletes were injecting acid into their genitals to gain an advantage. A bigger penis means a bigger suit and that helps aerodynamics, apparently. I could think of better things to do with one than skiing!
• Primordial monsters news: A 370 million-year-old fossil found in Scotland is an entirely new form of life which towered 26ft tall, scientists have confirmed. Either that or they were aliens. I await the conspiracy theories...

RIP Patsy King, better known as "Governor Erica Davidson" in Prisoner Cell Block H - heavens, how I loved that show! "That will be all, Miss Bennett!"

• Gold-digger news: Meghan Markle - the artist formerly known as "Duchess" - continues her trajectory towards being a pastiche of herself, as her much-over-hyped Netflix show Meghan With Love has proved an almighty ratings flop, and is rumoured to have been cancelled. Karma is a cruel mistress.
• Moo news: The world's media has gone mad about the discovery that Veronika the Cow can scratch her own arse by using a broom - the first time a farm animal has been recorded doing so. There wasn't much on telly in Austria that week.
• And finally...

[click any pic to embiggen]

And the weather? Pissing down all day, and no sign of it brightening up for a while yet. Roll on our trip to Spain!

Baby no more

Sharing the day with another mismatched assortment of names, including Telly Savalas, Plácido Domingo, Martin Shaw, Benny Hill, Billy Ocean, Cristóbal Balenciaga, Steve Reeves, Christian Dior, Geena Davis, Edwin Starr, Jack Nicklaus, Lola Flores, Phil Neville, Richie Havens, Karl Wallenda, Wolfman Jack and - erm - Rasputin, our own ickle Baby Spice is (gulp!) fifty years old today [born the same day as the first commercial flights by Concorde]!

Now I feel old...

Here she is, with her biggest solo hit:

Emma Bunton - What Took You So Long

This cover of an old Edie Brickell song, however, remains my favourite:

Tin Tin Out ft. Emma Bunton - What I Am

Many happy returns, Miss Emma Lee Bunton (born 21st January 1976)!

Satire's not dead yet

A new study has found that taking part in “Dry January” leads to a sharp and measurable increase in smugness, with partners, friends and bar staff reporting noticeable behavioural changes within days of the month beginning.

Researchers said participants displayed heightened levels of self satisfaction, particularly in pub settings, where abstinence was often announced loudly and repeatedly, despite no one asking.“It’s not just that they’re not drinking,” one increasingly weary partner lamented. “It’s the way they sit there watching everyone else like they’re morally superior. It’s made me drink even more if I’m honest, mainly out of spite. Sometimes I just go to the pub without them.”

Friends reported similar responses.“They can’t just quietly not drink,” harped one disgruntled drinker. “They have to mention it. In the pub. Over and over. It’s quite annoying.”

Bar staff said the behaviour was instantly recognisable. Jim Bingham, bar manager at The Bouverie Tap in Folkestone, Kent, said Dry January customers tend to let you know as soon as they walk in. “They want to chat about how well they’re doing. But we’re busy,” he bristled. “We don’t need your life story. Just order a fucking drink.”

“No one orders a lager and explains they’re doing Fat February. But in January, ordering a lemonade comes with a TED talk. We don’t care.”

Pubs confirmed sales of alcohol free beer, cider and spirits rise sharply throughout the month.“We order extra every January,” Bingham said. “It’s not a trend. It’s for these numpties.”

Alex Furness, a bartender at the pub, said customers often seemed disappointed by the lack of reaction. “They announce they’re doing Dry January and just stand there,” he said. “Like we’re meant to clap. I don’t give a shit.”

The study revealed the most common phrase recorded was “I’m actually doing Dry January”, often delivered with a smug expression, as if they’re quietly enjoying the smell of their own fart.

Researchers also noted a marked increase in phrases such as “I don’t even miss it”, “I actually feel amazing”, “I’m sleeping so much better” and “I’ll probably just carry on in February”, usually spoken while staring longingly at someone else’s pint.

They found smugness typically peaked in the second week of January, before collapsing rapidly following phrases such as “I might just have one” or “I’ve still done really well”.Pubs expect behaviour to return to normal by early February, when participants begin saying they have “basically cut down now” while ordering a pint.

The report concluded that while Dry January may offer personal benefits, it places “considerable strain on pubs, relationships, and anyone seated nearby”.At time of publication, bar staff confirmed they had ordered enough 0% options and were “looking forward to Full Fat February”.
- this post from The Bouverie Tap in Folkestone makes me want to pay them a visit!

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Brooklyn Beckham and Nicola Peltz have never worked a day in their entire lives.

They really do believe they are suffering over a wedding dress and a typical in-law disagreement.

Zero adversity in life is what creates this phenomena [sic]. People worldwide are starving, dying, and being slaughtered in their hometowns - but poor Brooklyn and Nicola had a dust-up at their billionaire wedding.

They are so wealthy, they were then able to organise another wedding to make up for the first - but they want the public to realise how stressful it is that they had to have TWO multi-million dollar weddings because his brother said something mean to him and his mother danced with him at the wrong time.

Truly traumatising. Pray for them.
- Candace Owens

[The "real" story]

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“Retaliatory tariffs are a bad idea,” said Starmer. He isn’t wrong. A trade war would undoubtedly harm the UK economy. And falling out with your most important ally who helps maintain your nuclear deterrent can generally be filed under “bad idea”. But where do you draw the line when The Donald goes ahead and does all the things he says he is going to do? Imposes tariffs; annexes Greenland; trashes Nato.

In KeirWorld where no boat should ever be rocked, The Donald operates in a world without consequences. Where every humiliation is only greeted with an invitation to inflict further humiliation. Were Trump to take a fancy to Scotland - hell, he owns a couple of golf courses so why not the whole country: first he takes Turnberry then he takes Holyrood - what would Starmer do then? Apart from saying how disappointed he was and that we needed to maintain good relations with the US at all costs.

Maybe Keir will prove us all wrong. He will secure a meeting with the president in Davos and The Donald will see the light. But you wouldn’t put money on it. Starmer has acquired the reputation of being the world’s best Trump wrangler but right now it’s hard to see we have got that much in return.

It could just be that Keir used his best bargaining chip long ago when he offered the president a state visit on the first date. That’s the only thing The Donald has ever really wanted from us. We gave it away too cheaply.
- John Crace in The Guardian

Amen.